


What Happens When You Lose Your Anchor

by ambidextrous_otter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Broken Murphy, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Grounder Torture, Murphy has ptsd, Tortured Murphy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambidextrous_otter/pseuds/ambidextrous_otter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Murphy can think about is Bellamy Blake. How the fake guard is responsible for the Grounders cutting into his flesh.<br/>The memory and feeling of his hatred for Bellamy is the only thing that keeps him sane.<br/>Until Bellamy is the only thing he can remember.</p><p>Or:<br/>Really messed up AU where Murphy is sent back into camp with no memories other than Bellamy's name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens When You Lose Your Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> This will have graphic torture scenes as well as suicidal and homicidal thoughts, don't read if you're easily triggered by any of these things.

**Murphy:**

 

_It's all his fault._

As I writhe under the cruel blades of the Grounders, the only thing on my mind is Bellamy fuckin' Blake.

How he betrayed me for some stupid 12 year old brat. How every fingernail I've lost and every wound that's been created is all his fault. How he could've chosen to listen and show compassion when everyone turned on me for Wells' death. 

But no.

He acted just like the assholes back on the Ark who murdered my father for trying to help his kid. Bellamy may not be a real guard, but I don't doubt in the slightest that if Octavia wasn't born, he'd be just like the rest of those pricks still floating up in space.

A particularly nasty slice across my abdomen has my back arching away from the pole they've bound me against, the rope tugging against my already bleeding wrists. 

I try to block out the pain by focusing on my hatred for the people back at camp.

Imagining them all dying in a fire, or at the hands of my current torturers.

I hope Bellamy dies last, so he can watch all his devoted subjects deal with the pain I'm suffering through now.

The female grounder in front of me seems to notice my thoughts drifting, and punishes with a brutal bashing with a spiked club to my hip.

Letting the pain consume me, there's one thought on my mind before I pass out.

_Bellamy Blake._

___

 

I wake with a gasp as my head is smashed into the pole behind me. I open my eyes to none other than my favorite Grounder.

The girl with the bat. 

She seems to take a lot of joy in hitting different bones in my body just hard enough to put them on the verge of breaking.

I manage a sarcastic smile that's only possible due to the satisfaction of falling asleep on her.

She growls before hefting her bat high and I close my eyes and fall into my usual methods of ignoring the pain.

_I'm going to kill Bellamy Blake._

By the second hit to my head by vision has completely blurred and I can only make out the sound of another Grounder entering the room, seemingly shouting at the girl. 

The girl just sneers before dropping the bat in mock surrender and moving to quickly slam my head once more into the post.

And just like that, the world is dark again.

\---

 

_I'm talking to someone._

My mind can barely process the words stumbling through my lips. Something about a camp. I have no clue where I am, only that my mouth is moving and someone is beginning to untie me.

I feel myself being dragged somewhere. 

I recognize that I'm now in the woods, and with a firm shove from the person that untied me, I start walking.

I have no clue where i'm going, yet something keeps my feet following an invisible path.

I don't know how long I'm walking, letting my brain fall into to silence and my legs carry me wherever it is I'm meant to go.

\---

 

There's a burning burst of pain as something hits me, and I fall to the ground groaning.

I see a figure moving towards me and I scramble back frantically, deciding I liked walking in solitude better than being tied to a post.

A girl stands in front of me, saying something, her dark eyes wide with surprise.

I only recognize my name, and the way she's saying it sounds all too familiar.

_Murphy._

Spat out with dissapointment and a trace of disgust.

\---

 

I'm dazed as I'm led into an area I can only assume is the camp I was talking about.

My mind seems to glitch for a second and when I look up there's a blonde girl in my face.

Her expression is stern, and she looks at me with such hatred I can't help shying away from her, trying to curl my body into a corner as she looks at my hands.

She looks familiar, and I know that we both know each other somehow if the emotions in her face are anything to judge by.

She's speaking to someone, and stands up as the voice raises.

Unfortunately for me I don't get to see this mystery person before my minds decides to malfunction again.

\---

 

_My name is Murphy. And I don't know where the hell I am, or why everyone seems to hate me._

I stop my dissection of the few facts I know to be true when blood rises in my mouth, overcoming my senses until I'm choking on it.

Gagging, I cough and cough until I can draw in a shaky breath in order to cough some more.

At this moment, in this foreign place, I can only hope that whatever is causing the blood in my mouth will kill me quickly so I don't have to feel so lost anymore.

\---

 

My time being sick is mostly hazy. I remember other people entering the room with me, all with blood leaving their body in every possible outlet.

I remember the blonde girl coming in and the need to climb out of my hammock to give it to her, despite the lack of thanks I got for it.

_Why would they thank you, they all seem to hate you._

Besides, I feel better anyways. The least I can do is offer my bed to someone who is not only sicker but also took care of me.

Maybe I can find other ways to help.

\---

 

It happens what seems like an eternity later. 

 _He_ comes in.

He's sick like the rest of them.

But the paleness and tired eyes don't stop me from feeling the spark of recognition turn into a full flame.

_Bellamy Blake._

That's his name.

I don't know how or why I know his name, but the information is there, and I decide to cling to it.

I make it my mission to keep an eye on him.

Despite how small a flame it is, I refuse to let it die out.

\---

 

It starts with leaving extra blankets for him.

Even if I take them from others, this Bellamy man is not going to die until I find out why I remember him.

Noticing him coughing, I decide to make my move, reaching for the cup of water than I'm relying on to help me connect with this memory.

\---

 

I've never felt so much pain. To have the gesture I was so desperately relying on not only brushed off, but with  _so much anger._

Through the haze of my dissapointment and rapidly approaching self-loathing, I notice someone else helping him drink. I shuffle away before that murderous gaze is turned back onto me.

_How much of a monster must I be, to have the only person I remember be someone who looks at me with the disgust and aggression of everyone I've seen combined?_

All I can do is sit and wait for my memories to return on their own, before I make the decision of whether or not I should be allowed to live.

\---

 

The sickness has started to clear up when I see _him._

The boy is asleep in a corner and I can't help the small gasp that comes due to the surge of anger I feel.

I feel like ripping my hair out, the emotion rivaling the dissapoint I felt with Bellamy's rejection.

I find myself grabbing a cloth and rushing over to him, barely remembering to check that there was nobody watching.

My mind is in a frenzy, all my thoughts are a blur as press the cloth over his mouth, the anger only growing when his eyes snap open with fear.

_I'm so tired of everyone looking afraid of me, I don't know what I did!_

I feel my anger drain along with the life from the boys body and I stand shakily, not processing whatever just occurred.

_I guess I am a monster after all._

 


End file.
